


one who walks beneath, and is the stars themselves.

by asteriacrows



Category: Fate/Grand Order, fate series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anunnaki Gilgamesh, Canon-Divergent (very slightly), Dreams, Existential Angst, Fate OC, Immortality, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of FGO Babylonia Singularity, Mentions of FGO Solomon Singularity, Original Character(s), Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25670911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asteriacrows/pseuds/asteriacrows
Summary: the emotions brought about by something from far before his time, of a being that he cannot control in dreams and of one who knows far more than he. he wonders how far that darkness goes, wonders how that golden shine of riches and splendor vanished beneath a cold cavern and centuries of giving out judgment to the few dead that wandered to that being. what changed the wise king of uruk he knew so well in that singularity, and more so; what happened to this one, so detached from the world?merlin finds himself in a delicate situation, in between the veil of life and death, and a frozen laboratory far away from what remains of humanity. at the least, he is not alone, for once; but he wonders, even more, why he feels so much around this one when he is not supposed to.
Relationships: Gilgamesh | Caster/Merlin | Caster, Merlin | Caster/Gilgamesh | Lancer, Merlin | Caster/Solomon | Caster
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	1. a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i'm starlitcrows on tumblr, and this is a fic mainly about an oc gilgamesh of mine. https://starlitcrows.tumblr.com/tagged/lancer-gilgamesh
> 
> you are also free to ask him questions on that blog. i'm not sure how long this fic will be, or if i will finish writing it, as a warning; but i do hope you enjoy it nonetheless. thank you!

“spiritron conversion activating. you have the quartz, fujimaru?” da vinci smiled, holding out her hand. 

“sure do,” came the easy, laid-back reply, a shift of materials in hand.  
  
caster gilgamesh stood with his arms crossed behind them both, gaze set on the bands of light upon the floor of the summoning room. another day of summoning, another day of another servant. perhaps another copy of some other hero, perhaps someone new. he was merely attending to see how it worked, that was all. he would leave shortly after the summoning was done.

“get on with it, mongrel,” he muttered, and ritsuka beamed back at him. an annoying smile he had grown fond of.

“alright! here we go!”

fujimaru immediately clasped their hands together in prayer, bowing their head and shutting their eyes. a way they wished for luck to bless them. he rose a brow at it, before his gaze drifted back to pay attention to the summoning. caster watched as the orbs of light swirled together, before a brilliant shine of rainbow and gold flared out. his eyes widened.

he glanced at the master, and nudged them. they opened their eyes immediately, and then they went wide seeing the light. it converged at the circle’s center before giving a bright flash, da vinci, caster gilgamesh, and fujimaru covering their faces.

a twirl of a scythe, a black cow’s skull adorning its blade.

“servant… hmm. this time, lancer.” a deep, quiet voice spoke, near-silent and yet firm.

caster stared. long, shimmering blonde hair, red eyes, a figure that held both grace and power. one that eerily looked like his own. he got an answer to that question quickly.

“true name… gilgamesh, i suppose.”

there was no way.

“i am he who is the beginning of all ends. contractor, what do you…? ”

the lancer looked around him at the room, before that brilliant gaze settled on the king of uruk. he stared back with wide eyes, suddenly feeling very small beneath that intensity.

“my... younger…”

“fujimaru!” da vinci exclaimed, “congratulations! we’ve successfully summoned a five star serv…”

her voice faded as she stared at the lancer holding the scythe, slowly realizing and looking over at caster.

“h-hello,” fujimaru said softly, walking up to the lancer and taking his hand, smiling. “i am the master of chaldea, and--”

“i know who you are,” the lancer replied quietly, interrupting with very little regard for how cold his tone was. “i have known... i was to be summoned here eventually. clairvoyance is a dangerous thing,” he continued on, narrow gaze still set on caster.

he finally decided to speak.

“you-- you are me,” caster said, willing his voice not to shake. “another gilgamesh.”

a nod. fujimaru looked between the both of them, da vinci held her dress silently.

“master--"

the door slammed open. golden armor, red eyes, slicked back blonde hair, too. caster whirled back, his own golden robes flitting upwards, to see his archer self staring forward along with his child self, leaning by the doorway.

“...” fujimaru gave a weak smile.

lancer coughed, looking to the side. “my my, contractor… it seems you’ve already summoned quite a few of me.”

“master, what is the meaning of this? why is there another one of me--” archer’s voice rose in volume, fury already settling on his expression. “and do you mean to tell me this one has class advantage over me? i--” 

kogil interrupted, desperately trying to hold back his older counterpart.

“calm down, i’m sure he’s pretty confused t--” another cut-off yell-

“be si--!”

“both of you!” caster raised his voice, crossing his arms and straightening his posture swiftly, brows furrowing at the surge of chaos. “quiet down! ...ritsuka, your orders?”

a soft sigh. they ran their hand through those black locks, rubbing the back of their neck. 

“...archer, kogil, please leave.”  
  
archer shot a glare at the new lancer version of himself before leaving with a stomp, the room shaking a little from the vibration. kogil sighed and apologized softly before trailing after him.

well, this new lancer most definitely could not avoid a confrontation by that tyrant he once was.

da vinci chuckled. “i’ll tell romani we’ve summoned someone new,” she said with a smile. “do you want me to tell anyone else?”

“no,” the other replied. “thank you, da vinci-chan.”

“of course~” and with a smile and a wink at the lancer, she left the summoning room.

ritsuka stared up at the lancer, giving a slow sigh. “...tell me about yourself.”

a thin chuckle, low and rich in tone. an eerily familiar voice that was.

“on the spot i see…? mm. eligible for grand, and enuma elish nullification,” he replied. “is that good... enough for now?”

his master’s eyes widened. his own did, too. the lancer’s smile was calm, brilliant, blinding, gentle. 

_i, a candidate for grand. he, too..._

“o-oh, i… meant more about you know… your history. n-not your traits,” master said softly, cheeks dusted as the lancer leaned down a bit to look at them better.

“well, you already... know of my tyrant and wise king selves,” he tilted his head. “what else… do you wish to know…?”

“about your scythe, why you’re wearing black… what gilgamesh you are?” they shuffled nervously on their feet, and caster’s gaze was eerily drawn to the lancer. a strange aura. no power emitted from it, not a single drop of strength. honestly, it was pathetic. in fact, had he not been his caster self, he doubted he would’ve sensed it at all. an aura with no power, yet he felt a strange sense for sure, that it was merely hidden… this one was five star, so…?

“i am but a humble judge,” lancer replied. “a man who guides the souls of the fallen, a courthouse for those that walk the underworld of lady ereshkigal. nothing more.”

“i-i-- see… wait, but you’re gilgamesh! i thought that you--”

“fell into death’s embrace, after working a living body deep to the bone,” and caster immediately winced a bit, coughing and looking back. lancer’s gaze flickered to him, and he felt chills from it. “that would be correct.”

“then how do you have a servant self… of you after you have di--?”

“the gods chose me,” he replied simply, once more. “so i ascended past them. that is all.”

_ascended past them?_

caster felt a chill run down his spine. he had… no memories, of that which after he had died, and yet there he was, standing right in front of him... ritsuka stared in silent awe at the black-robed lancer, silent for a moment as they took him in, before suddenly they remembered to speak, and they nodded with a soft noise. 

“w-well, thank you for telling me.”

“of course. you are... the contract under which i now serve. i will assist however i can.”

ritsuka was silent for a moment, before they opened their mouth to speak again.

“i expected you to be… a little ruder,” they admitted quietly. caster coughed again at that statement, and lancer’s gaze met his own again before he looked away.  
  
“ah, well. it is... a judge’s duty. to act as such without bias nor discrimination. although…”

the summoning room got very cold, and caster shivered a bit. lancer’s gaze bored into both of them, calculating and silent. 

“i will say... that i have no reason to trust you, either.”

it was dead silent for a few moments, before lancer chuckled, and the room warmed again. 

“forgive me, contractor. was i a bit scary there? i am… to be staying here, yes?”

ritsuka forced out a nervous laugh, and he would have winced from it had he not been so controlled in his emotions.

“o-oh, right! of course! um... i have to ask romani to set up a room for you… you won’t have a roommate because you’re the newest servant… umm… caster?”

and now he got roped into this mess.

“...yes, master?”

“could you show your, um… lancer self, around chaldea?”

the lancer was smiling softly, raising a brow.

“...of course.”

“th--- thank you! i’m going to go catch up with da-vinci, and have romani and the staff see if there’s a room for you, um… what do you want me to call you?”

“nightfallen one,” the lancer replied. “you may call me the nightfallen one, contractor.”

“okay, nightfallen gil!” lancer’s smile eased up a bit more at the nickname, “bye!” a quick head turn to him, “thank you, your majesty!” caster gave a nod as ritsuka dashed out the door, leaving the summoning room empty save for the two of them.

silence.

“...”

he felt powerless. despite that strange aura of the other’s that lacked any hostility or power whatsoever, he felt so powerless. lancer leaned on his scythe, tilting his head at him.

“...your hair is long,” caster commented idly, breaking the desperate silence. his voice seemed unnatural against it, somehow, like the other was commanding it in place. “you seem a bit taller, than me. i thought i had done my growing all the way back then.”

lancer walked a bit closer to him, hair swaying a bit in a strange breeze. hypnotizing. this other self of his was… the black robes adorning him, the open collar connected by a beaded golden chain… the golden belt around his waist, the long folds of fabric swayed as he walked forward, the aura growing more intense and filling up the room. shimmering, glass earrings, a mark of red make-up beneath each eye, a small smile. glimpses of wine-colored tattoos draping across pale, smooth, glistening skin from the gaps of the shining black robes. a bit more physically built than his archer self and his own figure, a mirror image of himself, yet eerily different. decorated with the aesthetics of the underworld of mesopotamia. 

somehow, he is reminded of the likeness the pseudo-servants those two goddesses had become, and yet he shared the same hair color, the same eyes… movement, lithe and sleek like almost that of a cat’s, except more powerful. not quite a lion either. smooth, flowing movements, in reverent silence. how he wondered what that skin would...

he realized he was staring. cornered, he felt. the lancer simply smiled, not commenting on it.

“so my living self has… pointed out the obvious,” and a black-and-gold-gloved hand brushed the side of his hair. he recoiled immediately, shocked at the gesture, giving a breathy noise in surprise as the other’s eyes fell shut and he laughed softly. “can i not brush my own hair…? my... i forgot how averse i was to affection. perhaps... i still am, but that is besides the point.”

he hissed at that, arm moving up to guard himself.

“you are me, after i have died.”  
  
a gentle quirk of lips from the judge. the veil attached to his crown swayed and sparkled as he tilted his head.

“that would be correct, yes."

“is that all you are?”

a pause, before those crimson eyes of himself closed and the other huffed out a laugh.

“yes. that is... all i am. a humble judge.”

_a beautiful judge_ , he found himself thinking, before he immediately shoved that thought out of his head. this was himself, and yet not. he knew of his own pride, his own arrogance all too well, and it still boiled up within him. narcissism, he believed it was called.

to find his own self beautiful. he could only barely say that about his tyrannical younger counterpart, but this one… this version of himself had him in awe.

“...i see,” he murmured back quietly. the lancer chuckled.

“well, i believe you... have a laboratory to show me around, yes?” caster noticed now his other self’s voice had lapses of pauses, before it flowed back in. a much gentler, much softer voice than his own. velvety, like the petals of the gardens he once walked among, rasping, like the tiny, unnoticeable juts and edges within a smooth surface of ice. it had not insulted anyone, at least not yet. humble, silent.

and yet that voice belonged to a lancer eligible for grand. he wondered what power this self wielded... that was strange, however...

“mm. follow. i will guide you through the hallways and rooms, to the command room, and the dining hall. after that, i will let master deal with you.” 

another gentle noise of amusement.

“very well, wise one.”

he stiffened at the nickname, a small frown now on his face. “...is that what you are going to call me?”

“i supposed… i would call you, ‘wise one,’ the other one ‘tyrant,’ and the little one, ‘child.’ you may address me however you wish.”

he raised a brow. he supposed this made things less confusing, but still, it was strange nonetheless.

“...you told the mongrel to call you ‘the nightfallen one,’” he mused back, taking a step out the door. the lancer fell in beside him, scythe vanishing in a brilliant spark of blue flame, briefly dazzling his gaze and dizzying him. “...i-i, suppose that would mean i would call you ‘night,’ but if we are alone, perhaps addressing you as simply ‘lancer’... would that suffice?”

“mmhm. feel free… to call me ‘lancer,’ wise one.” 

a childlike, yet distant tone, that seemed to have naivete. he questioned its innocence, before walking on down the stark-white hallways, not bothering to wait for the other to follow him.

“very well," he muttered back. but, he only heard one pair of footsteps, and those were his own. he glanced down, and saw the other walking beside him.

“...i cannot hear your--”

“death is silent.”

he immediately stilled at that comment.

the other stroked his hair again and he willed himself not to recoil. a kind smile, that he assumed most definitely was some sort of facade, a mask to conceal some darkness this older version of him was hiding.

“i am of kur,” still speaking softly. “and i am... also you. you must calm yourself around me, wise one,” and he stared, head tilted ever so slightly up to take in the crimson eyes of his own self. “if you react like this… to everything i say, i fear that we will not get anywhere in this tour,” the other whispered, tilting his head as a brow furrowed and another warm smile spread across the judge’s expression. he brought a hand to his mouth, giggling softly at his own joke. caster stared, searching that happy expression for anything to give him away.

he found nothing. he found himself so hard to read, and that was frustrating. archer, he could understand. but this?

“...”

death was silent, and yet it was the only thing gilgamesh could hear. 

“...fine. let us continue, lancer.”

a noise of agreement.

some time passed as the caster guided the lancer around the halls of the great laboratory, the headquarters of the association tasked with protecting humanity. they made idle talk about and with the servants that passed them. a short man with blue hair and striped clothing. that other red-cloaked archer his younger self despised with a passion. a woman with a scaled scarf in a black uniform, and a man in a white one with a blue-lined hat. lancer seemed intrigued by all these… people, the caster supposed. innocent greetings and bows of his head to these other servants.

caster gilgamesh could almost be amused by how nice this other self of his seemed to be, save for those silent steps and that eerie, hidden darkness still within the other’s waters. then, a glittering black crown graced his view; ah, the goddess who has at least some true brilliance.

“oh, lady ereshkigal!”

the goddess in question turned around, and her eyes widened in surprise seeing the lancer walking toward her.

“eh-- eh-- _eh_?! my judge!” 

he smiled, steps growing a bit faster, and yet still caster heard nothing from them. he crossed his arms, following behind the other with a raised brow. the lancer sweeped the goddess off her feet and spun her, giving a laugh, before setting her down.

“my, my, how different you are from that grumpy one over there,” she commented, gently floating to the floor and turning to gaze at caster. “it’s been awhile, my judge of the underworld.”

he gave a huff, tilting his head at the familiarity between the goddess and his... dead self, he presumed. that... made him uncomfortable.

“good to meet you once again as well, ereshkigal.” a bow of his head, closing his eyes.

“it seems master has summoned you here. i hope you enjoy your stay…”

caster watched the goddess’ expression. silently, she raised a brow in confusion, before her eyes went wide. no doubt noticing the strange, uncomfortable aura the other gave off. she glanced over at the caster.

_do you sense it, too?_

he merely gave a dip of his head in response.

“o-oh! you do not need to bow, gil-shi.” _gil-shi?_ death gil? caster gave an uncharacteristic, un-kingly snort, which got him a glare from the goddess, and no reaction from the judge.

said judge raised his head.

the temperature got extremely cold, and caster gil stilled at the drop. eresh gestured very slightly with her knuckle, indicating it was the lancer, not her.

“lady ereshkigal,” he murmured. his voice was much deeper, a rolling force that felt like it could knock both of them to the floor if he spoke any louder, now, almost seeming to echo down the corridor they were in. it sent shivers up the caster’s spine, tingling up his skin. almost like cold droplets of water rolling down his back. he saw eresh stiffen up a bit, giving a weak smile as she looked up at the lancer.

“as i said, it is good... to see you again. i hope to serve you... well, whenever the contractor has me… fight alongside you.”

those crimson eyes were dull, empty, corpse-like, as though the color of the petals of that spider lily that other damned grand candidate caster told him about. 

“o-oh…” eresh sounded back softly, before she hurriedly tried to retain her stature. “o-of course! you, too, king gilgamesh! u-um…” she fiddled with her cape, nervously averting her gaze. the caster almost felt bad for her. “you seem a little… different than i remember… ah--”

he stroked her hair gently. life returned to his gaze, and those rubies shimmered.

 _dazzling,_ the caster found himself thinking. they were his own eyes, yet not. they seemed sharper, somehow, more ancient, otherworldly, though this was the him after he had died...

“forgive me for... not being what you remember, then, queen of the underworld. my mistress.”

caster narrowed his eyes a bit. different. what was so different that eresh had to point it out? was the strange aura more than just a… strange aura? what could she sense that he could not?

immediately, she blushed at his gesture, and gave several quick nods of her head. the judge’s heel turned swiftly to face the caster, and he almost startled at it.

“thank you for letting me speak with my equal,” he spoke out with a smile. 

gilgamesh nodded solemnly, gaze flickering to the goddess’ once more as she drew a line over her neck with an expression dashed with amusement.

“mm. let’s move alon--”

“ereshkigal! gilgamesh! ...o-other gilg-- nightfallen one!” 

master’s voice, and all three of them turned at once. good, even more interruptions. he found his hand curling into a light fist, and the strange urge to summon some sort of alcohol.

“u-um, doctor roman gave me some news regarding getting you a room, n… nightfallen,” ritsuka stopped with a slight skid to their step, holding their sleeve. “sorry, but you might have to share a room with two other people for a little, while we figure out um… where to put you.”

caster’s throat went dry.

“and since… the first servant you met was,” a gesture in his own direction, and his eyes were a wide stare as he quirked a slight, extremely forced smile. he heard eresh giggle at his expression.

“is it okay if he rooms with you for now, your majesty? since you seem to get along, and... are the same person, i think,” they shuffled on their feet, shyly feeling the gazes of the mesopotamian gods and demigod on them.

he was silent for a moment, before he heaved out a breath and forced himself to relax, rolling his shoulders.

“...fine by me."

oh, god, that meant he had to introduce the other to mer--

“wonderful!” a quick clap of hands, bouncing black hair that shimmered red in the light. "thank you, king gilgamesh."

he winced a little, breathing slowly, barely seeing his other self twitch lightly hearing his name. he couldn’t get out of this one no matter how he tried. oh, where was enkidu when you needed him… their little meeting went separate ways, and he guided the lancer to his own quarters. thankfully, the staff of chaldea did what they could to accommodate a king of his status… although there were many other kings in this laboratory, drowned in snow.

as they walked, he still felt so unnerved. he seriously could not hear the other moving at all. not the sound of fabric sliding across the floor, not the sound of heels grazing across it. nothing. absolute, deadly silence.

the silence of death, supposedly.

“are you really... always this quiet?” he asked finally, too shaken by seeing what was practically the ghost of himself walking alongside him and making no sound. his hands felt sweaty.

“...yes. i am of death, after all. i could put in effort to make sound, if you wish for me to.”

“it is unnerving to know two entities that call themselves that, and no, that is not necessary," he murmured back, before lifting his head, realizing the other would have no idea. “the a--"

“grand assassin, hassan-i-sabbah,” the other replied dryly, cutting him off without a moment’s hesitation. “the angel of death, azrael... he who is... ever faithful, to the authority of which had... desecrated the... age... of... gods...”

the lancer’s voice slowed, and he stilled, that corpse-like gaze returning to his eyes. hollow, empty, all-consuming like those black holes he had learned of. the vast emptiness of everything, all contained within eyes that were darker, deeper than his.

he knows the aura, now.

primordial. brimming with controlled power, and yet that power was so carefully and meticulously contained, weaved like the threads of fabric he’d seen women within his kingdom bring forth. a direct contradiction. his other, future self, stood before him. he who had rejected the gods.

 _o humans, let us restrain the gods,_ he remembered too well.

that was what the mistress of the underworld had sensed. a primordial nothingness, all held cleanly, completely still, within his ascended self. there was no writhing. no lashing, no burst. a deadly silence, demanded of his future-past self who held both a scythe and a lance in his hands.

a man who was more than a man.

“...lancer,” he called softly, almost afraid to break that silence again, and immediately the other’s head snapped up, startling the caster, and lancer let out a forced, light chuckle.

“oh! it seems that i… lapsed into unconsciousness, there,” he ran his fingers through his hair, tracing them among the black crown upon his head. 

the life surged back into the other’s gaze like a tidal wave, and it was strong enough that the caster could see it clearly. a bright shimmer of red, a flash of gold. a brilliant shine, like the smoothest, cleanest jewel.

he’s staring again. “are you alright?” he found himself asking. how strange, to question it of his own…

“f-fine,” the other stuttered out, giving a slow breath. the judge pressed his hand to his forehead, and he watched as said hand creased the other’s skin, pinched the bridge of his nose. “ahh..."

a happy, false smile.

how strange, too, to see it so obviously on himself. was he that obvious as well?

“shall we continue to this room of yours, wise one?” 

he gave a nod, just thankful the other changed the subject so cleanly.

his room was a bit larger than others. as said, the staff tried to accommodate his preferences. it certainly was no royal bedchambers, let alone fit for a king, and yet it was his room.

...mostly.

he opened the door and stepped in, expecting his lancer self to follow as well.

flowers made of the arcane bloomed along the walls, vases holding precious, leathery buds that bloomed slowly. his room smelled of the earth, and yet sweet, too. sometimes all those colors clashed in his gaze, dizzying him and pointing out how much of an eyesore they could be to the ‘roommate’ he had been forced to share his quarters with.

he did not mind it as much as he complained about it, however.

the lancer seemed hesitant to step in. he sat down on the bed, crossing his legs, raising a brow at the other.

“why do you hesitate to enter? we are one and the same, are we not?”

there’s far too long a pause, that made gilgamesh uncomfortable as he watched his other self gaze around the room, those eyes of his drifting slowly about at all the flowers decorating the stark-white walls. at the least, the bedsheets were a rich crimson, and the bed itself was one of the ones he pulled from his treasury. he’d not dare sleep among the stiff, scratchy white fabrics the chaldeans called beds. even if he slept so rarely, anyways.

“...the flowers are not made by natural means, yes?” his other self asked softly.

he questioned that… question.

“they are not. a result of the other one who dwells in this room’s magic.” 

a sigh of relief, and lancer stepped in.

“i fear that nature both... recoils and dances at my touch,” he explained, which really just created more questions than answers. caster gave a huff, patting the space beside him. lancer sat down, and even still, not a single sound from him.

god, that was creepy. truly like a spirit.

“...what do you mean by that?” he asked curiously. it almost felt awkward, to talk to himself, but not himself, like this.

lancer gave a soft noise of nothingness, a mutter of something the caster didn’t understand, before he just reclined against the bed fairly unceremoniously, crumpling the sheets. his knees bent, feet remaining on the floor.

“...i am death, and i am life,” he shrugged, curling up a little. caster turned his body a little, shifting his weight onto one arm.

“that answers nothing,” he mused back, gaze twinkling with inquisitiveness, narrowed in confusion. "you need not be so cryptic--"

“i know.”

he was forced into silence again, into waiting for the other to speak.

“...i am someone who watches over the dead. the remaining one... who watches over the dust and ashes of an unacknowledged world. spending an eternity… only waiting for the end of times, alone and unneeded, and yet i know that i will be there far beyond that end...” the other’s voice etched deep and to the bone, carving him open relentlessly and without acknowledgment. he can do nothing but listen to himself speak. the situation the other had almost reminded him of the other caster dwelling here.

“he who judges the dead, guides the lost… and… not much else, to speak honestly,” and there’s a sound of amusement that follows that darkness in his tone, brightening him again.

he was not going to get used to those shifts in tone the other had.

“...i see,” he murmured back simply. 

his gaze fell silently on the long golden locks the other had, much longer than his own. also shimmering like sea-silk, splashed against the deep red of the sheets they were on.

“...mm,” the other sounded softly again, rubbing his cheek on the fabric beneath. “it has been ages since i have felt the softness of a bed…”

he was afraid to ask what ‘ages’ meant.

before he can, the door swung open with a bang, startling him.

“your majesty! i’m hom--” a voice rang out, before immediately dying in its throat with a fizzle. a brilliant blaze reduced to smoldering ash.

merlin dropped his staff to the floor, and caster flinched at the sound. lancer groaned softly, nuzzling the bedsheets before also sitting up--

“...”

caster looked between his lancer self and the magus, who were both staring at each other with very intense gazes. his gaze flicked back to merlin, who was trembling now, hand squeezing his own white robes a bit too tightly, knuckles white for the half-incubus. merlin was silent, simply staring, very still, at the black-robed lancer sitting on the bed, who was staring back at him.

the king of uruk, again, felt awkward in this situation, sitting between the both of them.

“well, are either of you going to spea--”

merlin dropped to his knees, and the king dove for him immediately on instinct with a startled noise. senseless mutterings, empty nothings fell out of the magus' mouth as he clung to himself, clung to the caster desperately, shaking like a wilting leaf in autumn. he had never seen the other behave like this.

the magus rises, still trembling, and the king has never had to support the other like this, either. 

“my-- n-no--” the magus spoke, voice sharp and biting and oh, so much more human, so unlike him to speak so tenderly.

the lancer was up and off the bed immediately, and merlin shifted away from the king, grabbed for the waving, wisping furs-- were they fur--? of his cape.

“bastard,” that’s a new word leaving the magus’ tongue, but there was no bite to it. it was almost broken on a sob. “you--”

the lancer’s eyes had regressed back to the mostly black-reds of that corpse-like state. slowly, they turned around the room before landing on the caster, and suddenly he felt extremely out of place here, in his own room. he felt his legs shake a little under that hollow, agonizingly intense gaze.

he heard a voice speak in his head, and it wasn’t the magus’.

_a few minutes,_ and it was his own voice. _give this a few minutes. i am sorry to ask this of you in your own room, wise one. you may act out against me accordingly, afterwards._

not bothering to question, he dipped his head and took a step outside the room, and shut the door with a click behind him.


	2. a reunion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feelings are irritating things, but less so in the arms of one who swayed all things to his side eventually.

merlin hit the lancer lightly with his fist, before his fingers fumbled and tangled and grasped for the fabric of the other’s cape as he pulled it around the both of them, upset half-formed sounds tumbling out of his throat.

“why did you--” he choked on the words. he hated this already. one glance, and he was an emotional mess. everything he called himself, refused to let himself feel, coming undone at the glimpse of black robes. “you’re worse than me, you--”

he had only needed to see those shimmering obsidian-black robes before he knew immediately the identity of the new servant the master of chaldea had summoned. he should've seen it with his clairvoyance, but... that deep, gentle, itching voice, filled with gentleness that was so uncharacteristic of the other two older, but living, versions of the babylonian king, spoke into his ear, the sound reverberating through his very form, grazing along his origin itself as it called quietly to him.

“...magus of flowers… half-incubus, half-human...”

a voice he called out to, older than him, ancient, speaking to him. a voice trapped in eternity, distant in a foreign land that he saw in his tower, another not-entirely-human forced to watch humanity until the ends of the end.

the otherworldly, not-gilgamesh, that held the man’s name and body, and yet still was so, so alien.

and yet so, so, so very familiar.

he snaked his arms around the other’s shoulders, not caring anymore about how uncharacteristic or how unsightly he was becoming in the other’s embrace, feeling gentle hands on his hips, his robes folding in the other’s careful placement. cool, icy hands, that at the same time brought warmth like a gentle fireplace. with the other it was difficult to tell what he felt like, or what senses perceived him as. always changing, yet in control of that change.

it wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with the touch. no, it was merely who the touch was from.

he had no friends, he never kept bonds. he was just the magus, waiting, watching, at the end of the world. humans... he liked them, but individuals, no. of course not. he was not fully human.

and yet.

yet this was the judge, waiting, watching with him, the silence of death, watching till the end for the day he would reap this world of its endless amount of everythings.

they’d spoken often over the looming centuries of history. nothing-conversations, a flower blooming in the hand of the one sitting in the courthouse of the mesopotamian underworld. he remembered the first time he sensed the familiar aura of the other drawing him in like a black hole. a vast emptiness, like a sea that held no life. almost akin to the sea of the primordial goddess in that singularity.

it was such a quiet aura that it was suffocating, a silence that drowned out all other sounds, that merlin could not help but speak to it.

_“...who are you?” he spoke carefully, afraid to brush out against this unknown, arcane thing he had found in his vast drifting through dreams and not-dreams. “are you a king…?”_

_“a... j… ud… ge…” a raspy, dragging voice, ancient and ethereal, yet so very empty that it sent strange shivers through the magus as he reached out, fingers trailing through the stars of the other’s… vision. this was not a dream-- this one could not sleep._

_“a judge, huh?” the magus grinned, shimmering into place in the other’s vision. he twirled his staff, bowing to the other. “i’m surprised i’ve never seen y…”_

_his gaze locked on the entity standing before him. exhausted form, hands gripping the long staff of the scythe-lance this one was carrying. and all of a sudden, a cacophony blew out his ears. hundreds of voices all crying out in pain, begging for what he presumed was the aid of the entity before him, loud loud loud loud loud--_

_they silenced in an instant when the judge raised his hand. commanding all of them to quiet at a mere movement._

_the judge bowed his head to the magus, but not out of respect-- merely of exhaustion. of insanity, perhaps._

_merlin wondered who he had found._

“gil,” he whispered softly, burying his face in the crook of the other’s neck. “nightfall,” he says afterwards, as if to differentiate from the multitude of other gils already staying in chaldea. 

“mm,” gilgamesh replied softly. fingers rubbed circles on his back, pressing into his skin despite the fabric between it. merlin threaded his fingers through the long, long golden hair, tightening his embrace despite it.

“you’re worse than me,” he repeated, growling, though the growl dies in his throat and is replaced by a pathetic whimper. “lonely throne, lonely tower,” he snarled out, but it’s not cruel, just sad.

gentle squeezing of his waist, more back rubs.

“mmhm,” the other sounded softly back. it was always him who had done most of the talking anyways, wasn’t it? the magus speaking and rambling endlessly about nothing into the ever-omnipotent void, the void giving his input in small, broken sounds and barely-formed words in return.

“i--” he hated the way his voice caught, cracked along its edges, hated how this strange amalgamation of a no-longer-human being shattered him open as easily as he could bring death upon any living thing-- “i _missed you_ ,” and the words come out in a breathless whisper, in a rush of air.

“i know.”

such terse replies the other gave him, and he quirked out a trembling, shaking, creeping smile, leaning back and raising a brow at the other, eyes threatening to burst forth with tears.

“...but aren’t you supposed to be emotionless?”

“quiet. i thought-- i-i was an awful being,” he managed weakly. “i thought your gods ruined you, that insanity took you-- i could no longer find your visions,” he received a soft chuckle in return, a gentle caress. the other’s hands felt good against him, trailing down his back and waist. “i thought this piece of you had truly come to an end without being recorded in the throne--”

“...i wished to talk with you,” gilgamesh replied softly, again. “i sense it, in his soul… my caster self loves you,” and merlin found himself huffing a laugh out at that, though it was a bit strangled in the tautness of his throat.

“my king,” and immediately, a finger was placed to his lips.

“...judge,” the other reminded him quietly. “i am… no king, anymore.”

“my god? how about that?” merlin tried, laughing again as eerily scalding hot tears rolled down his cheeks as a grin split open on his face. gilgamesh flushed a little, crimson gaze averting his own vibrant violet. a sight merlin wouldn’t mind seeing more often. “well, i’m not a religious man, and i’m also half-demon--”

“...just a humble judge, magus,” he murmured softly. 

“y-yeah,” his throat was so dry, “yeah. you know,” and his voice squeaked a little at the end, rising high in pitch. why did his body have to react like this? was it because the other was practically a god of everything? was his human side just crushing his demon one? was it just the endless charisma the other poured forth like some sort of drug that affected the inhuman?

“you know, we’ve--” he struggled to keep speaking, pressing his forehead to the other’s chest. hands clasped behind his waist. “never, talked like this,” god, he really did sound pathetic.

he continued.

“physically, i suppose. it’s… always been in your visions, or… my dreams. i-i’ve-- never gotten to really feel your real tou-- hm. hold on, wait. why do i want your real touch, anyways?” gilgamesh was as patient with him as he ever was, this version of him at least, and he felt a nuzzle to his hair. “dammit,” he whispered. “i’m supposed to be… distant, emotionally. you’re right. why am i crying?”

“you know why,” was all the other said to him, and another surge of tears rolled down his face.

merlin let out a disgusting sob, all tangled sounds and half-formed whines, burying his face in the crook of the other’s neck.

“i _hate_ you.”

“i know.”

broken whisper.

“you are utterly awful, gilgamesh-- majesty, judge, whatever--”

“i know, magus.”

merlin was trembling as the other rubbed small circles on his waist, shuddering as his tears slowly eased up a bit, face no doubt reddened and a total mess by his outburst, his floodgate of emotion opening up for the judge. how shameful. this was very displeasing of him, and it was rarer still for his humanity to so greatly wrap its claws around his chest and pull so hard that he could do nothing but _feel,_ despite doing everything he could not to.

his face was reddening more about what he decided to say, honestly not caring about his contradicting statements. the other holding him was even more of a mess of contradictions than he was.

“i think… that i love you,” he murmured softly. “even though, i… hardly know what that means. i only love the world of humans as a whole, but you-- you and-- you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“mmhm,” is the sound of confirmation that softly brushes his ears. 

“ah,” he chuckled a little, nuzzling the other back. “god, you’re more annoying than me.”

“perhaps,” the other mused back, voice still so gentle, like the brush of a flower petal against his cheek, “you have rubbed off on me.”

silently, absolutely silently, gilgamesh leaned back, and gently placed his hand to merlin’s cheek, wiping away at the tears. warm hands, but he knew not if he was imagining them or if the other merely covered them in magic to give the illusion of warmth. something he’d do, most likely, if he were with anyone else… he’d never thought to be on the receiving end.

“have my other selves... been kind with you?” 

merlin could laugh loudly at that.

“archer is insufferable as always, but he’s fun-- kogil keeps his distance… caster…”

he felt that vermillion gaze completely and utterly locked on him, and heard the judge chuckle softly. so, so unlike the other two. so quiet, so still. a peaceful being, with significantly reduced pride and presentation; at least on surface level.

“you do not need to tell me,” the judge murmured. “i have those memories, of... the singularity you both walked in together. of me, him, summoning you as a servant. though those memories are not truly mine.”

“of course you do,” the magus exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. “of course you do.”

he watched as the judge lowered his head a bit to rest it on his shoulder, nuzzling it softly, and he raised a brow.

_“wise one.” the judge called out to a distant, eerily like-minded soul._

_“hmph.”_

_“are you... still outsi--” he was interrupted quickly by a huff of a noise. he would’ve presumed it was jealousy, but he decided not to dwell on it._

_“no. i supposed with how i could hear his crying that i would leave you two be. i demand an explanation later, though, lancer.”_

_“alright, alright. you could lay down with us, though. i believe you are lacking rest.”_

_“...do not tell me what i lack, mm--...” his caster self goes silent. the lancer believed he was about to call him ‘mongrel,’ before realizing that he was calling another iteration of himself that._

_“...i will tell you what i know, and that is all,” he responded back._

merlin caressed the other’s hair silently as he guessed that he was talking to the caster that had been in the room several, eternally long moments ago.

“...you want to lay down, my god-king?”

“judge,” the other interrupted quickly, snapped out of his trance and tiredly looking at the magus with those rich, crimson eyes, even more vibrant than the sheets of the bed the caster version had made. “i am-- _not_ that pharaoh--”

“whatever,” and gilgamesh huffed out a little noise of frustration at him. he laughed a little at it, but did not complain as the other slowly guided his hands down his robes, and he shrugged off the white cloak he was wearing to reveal the tight, black turtleneck he wore.

the judge did not comment on him, his features, not really, and those hands guided him down onto the bed he shared with the caster, reclining against those crimson sheets he’d grown well-accustomed to. their blanket was the wispy, real-not-real cape the other had. the gentle scents of the many flowers bedazzled around his room… their room…

“i will have to… apologize, to my caster self,” gilgamesh murmured almost silently, shifting a little in the bed.

“do you really need to?” the magus groaned, wrapping himself around the other’s body with a low, exasperated sigh. “come on, it’s yourself.”

“my self, when he still had his vanity,” the other said quietly, chuckling. “and even if you two are not master and servant any longer, i do believe he would be... upset at his older self for stealing you away. he denies it, yet his heart has a place for you… i’d know i… do not like when things of mine are taken away. my living self, at least. and… i do not even know if it is right to call him “my self”.”

he laughed again, back, rubbing his cheek on the other’s chest. alright, conversation, conversation...

“ahh, i'm sure it's fine--you know, in your visions, you never had tattoos,” he commented idly, breaking the extremely short silence. he did not seek to waste this moment-- speaking with the other was such a rarity; to hear the other’s voice so clean and smooth, well... “just paleness. why is that, o ex-king of heroes?” there’s another little huff, and it was endearing.

“..." a small pause at hearing the title of 'king'. "...because in visions, i can… see myself, as not the arcane remnant of a civilization past… but just an existence,” was the tired, soft reply that drifted back to him. “a existence who has nothing, and will continue to… have nothing.”

“aw, you have me!”

and again, there was no response for a few moments. 

“merlin.” 

he spoke, voice deep and rolling again, with the power of a hundred other voices contained within him, all perfectly balanced into a single soul. the treasury of babylon, converted into a man, holding power merlin could hardly imagine. the other had merely said his name, for the first time upon seeing each other.

grand candidate caster, grand candidate lancer.

“...king gilgamesh,” he said back, and this time, there is no sound of protest at the title.

the other’s hand drifted through his hair. ancient, not-his-own hands, fragile like glass but sturdy like a stone cliffside, weathered away by the crashing waves of time, and yet that time would never erase it. he smelled like the sea, like the forest, like nature, and like death, a rotting smell that the magus could almost turn his nose up at. the skin of a peeled apple, the bloom of a fresh rose, the smoke from a smoldering forge, the ash and dust left behind by a ruined city. a hundred scents, merlin could pick out from the man he was in the arms of, before all of them vanished in an instant.

nothingness, again. no sound of him shifting as he moved an arm around the magus, no scents as merlin placed his face a little more into the other’s chest.

it wasn’t _completely_ gilgamesh, he supposed. this one was much different, much much different, changed by having lived centuries longer than the sage, the tyrant, the wise king…

and of the multitude of brilliant, unknown forces all held completely still within his treasury of a soul, all because he willed it so. technically, though, he still was who... he was.

he remembered the day, when the saint graph of gilgamesh had changed to show his strongest class would be _lancer,_ before it glitched out suddenly back to archer _._ no one had dared tell the other gils that it had changed so, especially not archer, out of fear that he’d blast through chaldea with the full force of his noble phantasm, just because he learned another self of his had class advantage over him.

although, the magus was aware this one could honestly qualify for any other class, but the morphed weapon the gods had gifted had been a scythe, and he knew its true form was likely a lance or a spear, as any true lancer wielded.

and the gods were now him.

it was a shame he couldn’t be another grand caster-- his clairvoyance could probably rival the mage king’s if the judge tried to. merlin thought about that.

the authority of a single, omnipotent god, all-powerful and all-knowing, on a grand scale of creation, or the authority of a hundred or more primordial deities, willed into existence by the very beginnings of humanity and the origin of this world itself.

he wondered, truly, how much power this lancer really had. he knew for sure that all of it was his, though. the other was so gentle, soft-spoken, that unless you were a deity, or inhuman in a way, yourself, you might never notice the mask the other wore.

it was the mage king who had given humanity magic, but he wondered if it was really only just him.

something drifted in merlin’s head. they were in a period just before the last singularity, just after babylon. a few weeks had passed since then. it’d been quiet, but tense-- solom--

“merlin,” the other’s voice shook him out of his thoughts again, “tell me about my other selves.”

“you have clairvoyance, can you not look yourself?”

“...mm.”

“besides, i have questions to ask you, too, king gilgamesh. and don’t you think it’d be better to answer the one who can’t see into the past and future without walking in dreams?”

a quiet, tired sigh.

“for example! what crazy contradiction did you pull out to let master summon you? only the dead can be summoned, no? i understand you're gilgamesh post-death, but you're also deified-- those on the throne-- i broke the rules a bit-- did you?”

an even more exasperated, exhausted sigh.

“...this is not my true body," the other spoke quietly, voice growing weary with each word. "...of course not. that one i placed in... ‘comatose,’ somewhat, allowing me to be summoned here. the divine spirit origins preserve it well enough, and there is a forcefield around it. it sits in the ruins of the underworld, a bit farther than... the mistress’ dwellings, on the throne i held. although, that underworld no longer has the properties it used to. the sea has long since vanished, too. it is… merely a deep cavern, now.” merlin snaked his arms back around the other’s waist, watching the other twitch a little at the gesture, before silently resting that arm back over him.

“i created a leyline there as well... i do not need her, the mistress’, blessing, though that body is living--”

“because you are the new reigning ruler of your own underworld, technically, so you simply willed it so? your authority should be able to override nearly any laws of the mesopotamian gods, now that you are practically holding all of them,” the magus finished his sentence for him with a hum, stroking the other’s back and feeling back muscles twitch at his touch. “...i wouldn’t be surprised if you could override even more than just the mesopotamian ones.”

what a strange… relationship, they had. this intimacy felt so foreign to him, and yet in the other’s arms it also felt natural. was his own soul swayed by the sea this other controlled? that primordial darkness, his demon side sensed it and grasped for it, and that gentle, hopeful light, his human side craved desperately. this one practically radiated guidance, and merlin’s soul uncharacteristically yearned for it.

he had never been one for friendship with humans. he was too inhuman, too not-quite-right. however, this gilgamesh wasn’t human. much less human than the magus himself was. 

more divine, dark and earthly, than the three living gils.

gods were always things merlin was extremely wary of, let alone a demi-god ascended to full death god. he and the first hassan’s aura were eerily similar. both of them could be called ‘death,’ he thought silently. how many classes was this lancer really eligible for? all of them?

“mm,” the other sounded again.

“master will probably take you for an analysis on your skills, soon,” he reminded. “i want to see the magic you have. that lance of your’s, i could sense it when you were summoned.”

“...you are going to break a vase and ask me to fix it.”

merlin pouted at him.

“you used your clairvoyance for _that?_ but yes! i am going to do that.”

a low, deep chuckle.

merlin sat up, leaving the other’s warm embrace. carefully, a flowering vine stretched off one of the walls of the room they were in, snaking around a glass vase, before unceremoniously dropping it onto the floor. 

he felt the other’s hand twitch on his thigh, at the sound of the fragments shattering. gilgamesh turned a bit in bed, gaze landing on all those clear dusts of glass.

_“...silver pieces, clear, holding truth, holding within that falseness of life’s essence. one by one, i guide that which is broken, and unto this, you are whole again. by my will, i demand of the earth, of myself.”_

he watched with a smile as soft, ethereal white light shone and the fragments flowed back into place together, before settling. fixed, as if never broken.

“impressive,” merlin said, giving a gentle sound at the other’s hand stroking his thigh and waist absentmindedly. “one of nightfall. you could be a grand caster, honestly~”

“...no, it was... simple reparation. i may be able to cast my own magic without using mana from the contractor, but still. it is nothing impressive. and my magecraft is not--”

“how humble the king of babylonia has become,” he teased, chuckling and brushing the other’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“...i told you, i am no longer a king,” was the reply back. “it matters not who i once was. what i am now… is just a quiet judge.”

“do you know how weird it is hearing that coming out of your mouth? do you have any idea?” the magus grinned, fingers trailing on the other’s obsidian-colored crown, needling at the golden silk bangs covering the other’s forehead.

“...somewhat, yes.”

merlin flopped himself over onto the other, hearing the other grunt softly at the gentle impact.

“the king of heroes, the king of uruk, the judge of nightfall. how many titles do you have, king gilgamesh?”

the other gave a sound that was actually a lot more concerning than merlin first processed. a quiet, faltering breath, as the other curled up along his side.

“...too many… titles have little meaning to me, now. and the ones from before are not mine any longer.”

he gave a small frown, violet-fuchsia gaze trailing over the figure of the other. this was honestly the most the other had talked with him. the other's voice, in those visions they shared, was so quiet merlin almost had to strain to hear it; ancient it was, drained and weary.

“we are both trapped to watch humanity until the end,” the judge murmured, “summoned into this chaldea as remnants of our true selves which are locked away elsewhere. unique situations, you and i… and that current grand caster.”

merlin stilled at that.

“how much do you know?”

gilgamesh’s gaze was hollow, and it drew the magus’ attention to nothing but it. ruby color drained from his eyes, first the iris, then the pupil, and merlin was staring at pure, milky whites, absolutely void of color.

there was a smile on the other’s lips, and the mage felt very, very small, again, like if he looked at that gaze too hard it would send him tumbling into an eternal darkness, without any humanity to watch.

_everything,_ was the voice that spoke to him. the blank whites of his eyes swirled with darkness. it had gilgamesh’s inflection, but it didn’t sound exactly like him. it sounded more feminine, yet also more masculine. a hundred voices, as one. he even heard the ringing wail of the beast they faced within that singularity.

_everything comes back to me eventually. i am ancient, older than both of you, after all. i have a finger in every element of the world, as the authorities within me demand it of me-- and yet i demand it of myself. i only share his name, i only use his body. i am him, and yet not._

he was trapped in this stare with the other. locked, only allowed to break when the other allowed him to. oh. 

he’d severely underestimated how powerful this lancer was.

_i know that i am not the only king who blossoms under your touch. i know that you have spoken to the mage king when he was living, yet who is to say if he was living at all that way? i know that you have spoken to the many different times and changes of my living existence. i know you meddle well with humanity._

_i know how close you have grown to me, how close you grow to that other grand caster._

_i know of the pillars that have and will crumble humanity’s future, and of how this little frozen laboratory will go to the ends of the earth to prevent it._

_and i, too, know that you will be one of the ones guiding it, and saving it._

_the primordial inner sea of the stars calls for all things, and you have already answered me, merlin._

he let out a loud gasp when the other’s stare broke from his, shuddering and immediately tearing his gaze away. his voice was shaking when he spoke, and he hated it.

“do not do that ever again,” he exhaled out slowly, hearing his heart hammering out loud in his chest, lungs breathing strangely. it unnerved him.

“i do not make, nor do i keep, any promises, mage of flowers.”

he hissed at that.

“you frustrate me, you... “ he waved his hand dismissively with a harsh noise, letting his sentence fall flat, smacking the other gently with his hand again. he didn’t swear, no-- he wouldn’t do that with the other.

“lovers do that,” and for once it is merlin flushing at that comment, and not the one making the other flustered.

but then the serious voice was back again, and he had to listen.

“...are we lovers, merlin? can you love, can i?” the judge spoke in a way that betrayed the rhetorical sentimentality of everything he was… saying. merlin knew that he knew all the answers, but he didn’t want to know. “a cambion who claims he only loves humanity, fate, the world, and not the individuals that walk within it, hm, yet still applauds certain 'stories' more than others? an ascended king, barely clinging onto what slivers of humanity still trapped deep within his psyche, or perhaps he is not human at all?”

yep, there’s definitely still a whole lot of gilgamesh in there. someone who ripped into others and laid them out bare for the rest to see without any hesitation.

“i know of your fondness for the mage king.”

“and i thought i creeped around too much,” he said, insult seemingly lacking the bite he meant to put on it.

“you’ve already said it to me yourself,” came that otherworldly whisper again. “that you think you love me, magus. do you take back your word, now? you served me well in uruk.”

the king of heroes, and the wise king of uruk, even if but a small, tiny fragment of the man laying at his side, truly did not take bullshit, and while when merlin was talking to the caster self, it had been funny teasing that arrogance, but in this version…

“this is the most you have talked to me.”

“i can hear myself speak,” the other replied back dryly, finally pushing himself up and tracing a hand down merlin’s arm. he got a glimpse of those dark tattoos in the gaps of the other’s robes. eerily reminiscent of the mage king, too, “...almost clearly. those voices still are there, though, even as a summoned servant. and i am a judge, merlin. i will give my judgment no matter if you want it, or do not.”

he huffed out a sigh, watching as the other laid on his back, and climbed on top of the other once more, not caring hearing the grunt, folding his arms on the other’s chest.

“...gilgamesh.”

“mm...” 

“how much of you is in there?” he should really stop asking these questions, knowing they’d cut him right down to the bone. he couldn’t hide anything from his king, not this version, and he could hardly already hide anything from the caster version.

“enough.”

merlin stared at those brilliant red eyes, gazing back into his own. arms wrapped slowly around his waist. 

“there is enough of me, to know that i have a fondness for you,” a small, weary smile. “though i know it is completely my own, there are other fragments… speaking truthfully, that denial over having affection for anyone besides that one friend still stands, although barely, yet i pray i am not so immature. yet still, i wonder if you truly... do return it. it is fine if you do not. if this brings you any comfort, hollow as it may be, i will gladly serve, magus.”

hearing the other say, in the king's voice, that he would serve him. such words would be unthinkable from the caster and archer versions. this was all so confusing. he was promptly interrupted from replying.

 _"merlin,"_ a voice called to him, and it wasn’t otherworldly. definitely human, definitely kingly, definitely definitely definitely gilgamesh. he laid his head on the other’s chest, felt the lancer rub at his back as he listened to the caster speaking to him, and he no doubt knew the lancer was listening in to their mind conversation.

 _"court mage,"_ the other called him, even though merlin technically no longer was his court mage, _is your meeting with him done, yet? i grow weary."_

 _"gil, gil, gil. we’re just cuddling. you can come join us."_ he felt a hand twitch on his back. " _he doesn’t sleep... at least i don’t remember him sleeping."_

 _"so you two are… close?"_ he laughed a little, sensing jealousy in the other though he tried to hide it. saw the being he was currently using as his pillow have a smile flicker onto his face.

_"oh, you know me. i don’t get close with humans. but kings seem to be the exception."_

the caster did not speak for a long moment, before he heard the other sigh in his head. so weary, the king of uruk was. this was going to be a headache for the magus, he already knew, but he kept talking anyways. never seemed to know how to stop.

_"so, yes, we’re something like close. don’t tell your archer self. i’m fairly sure he already hates me enough for intruding on his attempts to court my true king. if he found out i’m close with both of his older selves, and is also the father figure to the lady in question, i’m pretty sure he’d combust from the frustration and kill me, if he could."_

the lancer gave a huff, chuckling softly, and merlin found it cute. briefly he turned his attention to the other and kissed his cheek, and the other fell silent with a warm smile. the caster in his head groaned in exasperation.

this was a dangerous game to be playing. to be so intimate with someone who was a hundred different existences at once. he wondered if he was really himself, acting like this with the other, or perhaps that soul guidance the other had was more like brainwashing.

_"you are utterly exhausting, merlin."_

_"you say that a lot, my king."_ though the caster technically was no longer his king. _"so, are you going to come join us? i must say, i might let your lancer self spirit me away."_

fingers tap his back gently, the lancer humming some old melody from far before merlin’s time. it wasn’t one the king of uruk sung either-- had he ever actually heard the other sing before?

_"...fine. i will join you."_

merlin laid across the lancer’s chest silently, feeling hands trace his back, his hair, his ears, lifting gently at the earrings. he knew the other wasn’t inexperienced with touch, not in the least, but the way the other was so hesitant... he seemed innocent like this.

“how long has it been since you’ve had physical touch...?” a gentle question.

“...too long.”

minutes passed in warm silence. the magus simply trapping the nightfallen king with his own weight-- though he was sure the other could lift him off with just a finger if he willed it so.

“are you going to tell the other mesopotamian servants…? about... your status,” merlin asked again softly, finding himself placing another kiss on the cheek of the judge. wasn’t really sure if it was his own choice, or the other was simply bending his soul to his will. either way, it felt nice. they had so much to talk about, but he knew tomorrow for the lancer would be much busier. master always liked to test new servants extensively. and this time, he wanted to be there.

“...i wish to avoid it,” came that deep voice again. “...but who knows, if my clairvoyance will be kind to me. mm, besides… i'm rather content with only you being aware.”

he smiled, letting the urge take hold of him, and slipped a hand into the other's robe, fingers pressing against a warm chest--

"magus... i--"

the door suddenly creaked, then opened, and the caster version of gilgamesh raised a brow at the sight of seeing merlin using his older self like a gigantic pillow.

merlin wanted to know what the other was going to say, but he decided to save it for when they were alone again.

“your majesty,” and he got off the lancer, sitting next to the other instead. caster wandered over to him, the king slipping without protest into merlin’s arms-- and then he laid between the two of them.

the judge moved his hair before the other gil could accidentally trap it.

“tired, i see--” he was cut off.

“silence, mage,” the caster scoffed, reaching to pull merlin down beside him, "i'm already weary."

the magus went down without a fight, wrapping his arms around the king he had served. his gaze flickered up, however.

the judge meanwhile idled silently, arms crossed, sitting back against the headboard with closed eyes. merlin knew that the other was not going to sleep.

he saw the magic of visions slowly swirling in the other’s aura, and nuzzled his face into the warm, short golden locks of the other caster in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> local half-incubus denies having feelings 100% of the time despite being almost always wrong, get FUCKED buster wizard


	3. a memory.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he made a mockery of that king, once. yet time is a complicated thing, and in the rifts between mind and matter, reality and the abyss; there is a chance they may have spoken, face to face. a judge, to a king of magecraft.

_...darkness._

_empty, senseless blackness. an eternal void where all things came to die, to be returned to the roots of the world, to know judgment before a being that, in origin, was young as space and older than time; the reverse being the same. the black visionary space of the mind, chaos and entropy lost in the fierce stillness of this place. it was not exactly a dream; it could be called something akin to a dream of a person who never slept. a dimension of its own, nearly; a territory of the arcane._

_it was the place he’d found in his meanderings, of cold and dark abyss, a vision of the obsidian throne beneath the pillars of frozen stone and cavernous underground._ _  
__  
__silently, the veil of obscurity peeled itself away, and he found himself standing in the mesopotamian underworld itself in a transparent form. nothing he was unfamiliar with-- though it had been quite some time since he’d visited the other’s visions, after… he had assumed the other had vanished into this very scape of fragile sanity._

_even being here, he knew, too, if he wasn’t careful, he could very easily be swallowed up by this void, as well. it was the underground sitting above a sea of total nothingness. a place where both infinity and zero were held as one--  
_

_however, something fundamentally was off--_

_and he jumped, when he felt fingers slide onto his waist, before quickly composing himself._ _  
__  
__“oh-- there you are!”_

_the lancer chuckled, moving into place and resting his arms around merlin, lacing his fingers through and locking the caster in his hold._

_he nudged merlin lightly, gesturing silently at their surroundings…_

_...the soul cages still remained, though many were empty. brief pieces of the world around them would flicker out in white searing flame, that dizzied his vision, leaving brief afterimages of bright orange, due to how eyes perceived that light--_

_“...i see. not a vision this time, but a memory-- are you growing nostalgic now, my king?” he mused, silently leaning back into the other’s arms._

_suddenly, the whole dream refracted in his gaze like a flashbang of magical interference, and he blinked, head aching for a moment before noticing now that there was a being seated upon that dark throne. in fact, a mirror image of the lancer he was in the arms of, at that. though, that being radiated a strange kind of weariness, even in a memory…_

_“...i supposed telling you would have been a waste of time,” the lancer breathed into his ear, kissing at it gently. “so... i have opted to show you, instead. i hope you do not… mind.”_

_merlin watched, as the being on the throne silently stirred, raising his head, though his eyes were still concealed by the golden hair and black hood he donned._

“...i sense… the gazing, of a king beyond… this realm. of a caster who’s gifts… were granted, not obtained.”

_the magus rose a brow at that._

“show yourself… to me.”

_a great arc of flaring divine light flashed in the throne room, thousands of golden particles shimmering and piecing together the form of another king merlin knew far too well for his liking-- the blue flames of souls danced away from his appearance, shying into the shadows of the nearby corroded pillars._

_long, coarse hair, the color of snow and with the light of gold reflected on its strands, spilling back over that king’s shoulders, a single section braided into a loop. bedecked with red, black, and white drapes and metal ornaments, dark skin, etched with a hundred more black tattoos that held power untold._

_the judge of the underworld, in this memory at least, rose a single brow._

“...we meet again, king of uruk. and this time, i did not have to look through time to speak with you.”

“...speak not of trivialities regarding… that of which i once was,” _the judge replied, tilting his head and looking down on the king with a thin gaze._ “i am… no king-- and you, are not one of the dead… that i am to judge. why do you… stand before me, now?”

_the king faltered at that, and merlin saw that nature of his, where he swallowed back the fear in his chest. when he cleared his throat and said the words that his authority demanded of him, when he ignored the humanity within his--_

“...i was… curious. i wanted to see what became of you. i don’t sense any other divine spirits, actually…”

_slowly, the judge stood-- the magus watched as that being carefully used the throne as a support to stand, and as the scythe he had seen the other hold was summoned into that being’s hands as something akin to a cane._

_the underworld of irkalla grew colder at his movement alone. even though they were only viewing a memory, the drowning authority the lancer had, it was enough that merlin could feel its chill just as real as something out of reality-- and, as if sensing this, the lancer held him a little tighter, nuzzling him gently._

_“you know, your true body seems to have almost as much hair as he and i have,” merlin whispered softly. the lancer merely grunted in response._

“...what happened?” _the king asked, voice forced into calm monotone._

_the judge on the throne growled lowly, a snarl in his throat as he stood to full height, no longer leaning on his scythe._

“did your… lord, order that… you speak with me? did you intend to come here… to lay _insult_ to the dead of this land?” 

_the king flinched a little at the tone used, but shook his head swiftly._

“no, no no-- i-- i am doing this of my own accord. my own curiosity, that is all.” 

_merlin chuckled at the brief stutter-- ah, yes. this king was a bit on the silly side after you peeled away all that heavenly glamor, all the order that was demanded of him._

_then, he fell silent as the judge’s scythe twirled in a brilliant display of dexterity, hitting the floor with a burst of dust and the sharp ringing song of metal against stone-- like the toll of the evening bell. the judge threw back his head, hood falling from his face, and crimson eyes drained of color leaving nothing but blindingly white voids that saw everything, were staring straight ahead at the mage king standing before him with not a single falter of movement nor hesitation. he gave a thin breath of black frost, before it turned into a low huff of contained fury._

“...i am he, the judge of kur. he who walks farther than men, beasts, or gods… king of jerusalem, did you come here, willingly-- on curiosity alone? are you here... to make a mockery, of the ones who once ruled this earth... instead? come here... to praise the authority of your own deity?”

_merlin’s eyes drew to the king’s body language-- the tense shoulders, the way one hand clung to his robes, likely clammy from fear. ah, yes. such a scaredy cat… and yet somehow, he’d grown enamored with the gradual humanity of the man who was not meant to be human…_

“...curiosity alone. i-- i can speak to you as myself, not as the will of my lord. how are you still here…? the--” _he was trying to change the subject._ “the hero known as gilgamesh died long, long ago… but…” 

_the dust from the ringing of the scythe settled._

“you wonder… how i am, still here.”

_lancer exhaled quietly beside him, burying his face into the crook of the magus’ neck._

“...yes. last i spoke to you, through time-- you were a man who feared death… and sought immortality. yet now, you have the immortality you once longed for… but-- that is no longer your wish, is it, king of uruk--?”

“judge. i... am no king. a mere judge, who guides the dead… nothing else, nothing more. and a judge has no time… to make wishes of human desire.”

_solomon lowered his head, looking at the judge with an expression bordering dangerously on concern. quietly, merlin shifted in the lancer’s arms, stretching his neck a bit._

_“so, two-thousand six-hundred b.c.e., was roughly where your reign was, my king. his, the mage’s… hmm. nine-hundred or so? ancient mesopotamia must have long since fallen away by now… and with the mage king, your living selves' efforts to end the age of gods, must have…” the lancer interrupted him with a soft huff instead, nuzzling him again and nudging him to look forward at the memory once more._

_“mm... around that time, yes.”_

_the judge sighed softly, before raising his scythe to point it at the king._

“i am the one who began the end of the age of gods… i am the spear that pierced through the old age... i am a remnant of it, i am its destroyer, and yet...”

_a slow, eerie wind drew through the cavern, whispers on its winds. the mage king startled a bit at the chill, even if he wasn’t of corporeal form; after all, this was a place that specifically affected the noncorporeal._

"there is nothing more foolish than one who tries to destroy what they are a part of... nothing more foolish than one who tries to destroy what made them. nothing, nothing, nothing more foolish, than a man made by gods, a demon made by humans, trying to destroy either. there is difference in what each destroyer seeks to end, yet-- everything these eyes see, nothing but the thoughtless."

_ah. lancer nuzzled him, and he remembered to breathe once more. the lines the other spoke, truly how terrifying they were. if this were not a memory, if he had danced his way through that rift to bear witness to this, could he have had his very origin changed by it? by the words alone?_

_"...that king and his demons. most notably that one who's form is painted in gold. the one unnamed of the seventy-two, the one his key is named for. i swore to not interfere with that of humanity's future, as i have no part to play in it."_

_"m-mm," merlin sounded back softly, tilting himself against the other's chest, sighing softly. "yes, i know who you speak of. i do not think i'll be an actor in that play, either. being a watcher, an observer-- that is how halfbloods like us manage."_

_the lancer nodded again, and he turned his attention back to the memory at hand._

“you-- don’t mean--” _a panicked breath._

“i am he who is what is left of them-- he who is… of them, even then.”

_the bell’s rings faded, replaced by the distant sounds of crashing waves._

“gilgamesh--?” _soft voice, questioning._

_the judge gave a low noise of irritance, once more, scythe spinning to rest at his shoulder, and he tilted his head into it, eyes sharp as shattered glass._

“we are… both clairvoyants. i am no king-- i have long since passed my time... over ruling humans. but even then, kings are meant... to lead toward the future.”

_silently, he carefully stepped down the stairs of the throne, and reached out for the king, tousling with that white hair lightly. despite the fact that solomon was in a ghostly form, it was for that reason the judge could interact with him-- as one who handled beings from beyond, as one of the once many who sought the dead of this land._

_perhaps out of starvation, the mage king tilted his hand into the touch of the judge, gaze wavering before snapping back to attention. merlin stifled another chuckle at the brief phase. he tilted his head back to rest on the lancer’s shoulder, who nuzzled his hair again._

“...the will of my lord demands that i do as you preach-- as a king, to grant humanity’s future... though i… you’ve… changed, more than i would have ever realized...” _the grand caster faltered again, hands tugging on his own robes once more, averting those golden eyes from those empty stark white voids of the judge._

“hm. and so... _will you_.”

_a sudden howling wind buffeted through the underground chamber of black stone, and the black cloak of the underworld’s solitary, remaining, lone lord flew back, along with the extensive, shimmering gold hair flowing with it. it reminded merlin of a tale he’d heard in passing, of a girl locked in a tower..._

_the ascended one’s scythe twirled in the air once more, and the voice that spoke was suddenly so much louder than the quiet rasp of before. clearer, as well-- so clear, that even in a memory it burned into merlin’s mind._

“KING OF MAGES.” 

_the lancer behind him chuckled quietly, hearing himself speak in such a manner before giving a slow sigh. the one called gilgamesh did not act so divinely-- but sometimes, it seemed he could._

“DEATH CALLS… FOR ALL THINGS. WHEN THE SEA OF TIME WASHES OVER THEE, YOU WILL NOT BE GRANTED THE REST YOU DESIRE.”

_hundreds of voices, speaking as one. even as a halfblood who, for the most part, felt nothing or claimed to, he felt chills run down his spine, prickling at his skin in this dream. feeling it so clearly, as well-- the lancer’s visions were terrifyingly clean-cut, sharp like a polished blade, for something most often hazy and undefined._

_visions were not something meant to be so pure, so clean, so utterly absolute._

_he kept his gaze trained on the brilliant flames almost the color of the sky dancing dizzying patterns around the judge as he spoke, posture straightened, stance beholding. how deafening; a judgment that would be heard whether or not you heard it through your ears-- one of soul and root and truth._

“YOUR ANGEL OF DEATH MAY CALL FOR YOU, BUT IT WILL NOT BE THE LAST.”

_the king of mages was silent, shivering a little in the cold of the underworld. after all, though this form was spiritual, it was still alive in a way. here, in this realm, and in this spirit, though he kneeled only to one god, he still had to respect the laws in place of the one he intruded upon. the authority of this place... ah, merlin himself had been in such a place rather recently...  
_

“SOLOMON, GRANTED KINGSHIP. THE REMAINS OF IRKALLA ASSESSES THAT OF WHICH YOU ARE NOW. MAJESTY ON HIGH, YOUR HEAVENS CANNOT SEE YOU HERE. UNTIL THE TIME OF YOUR END COMES, BEAR THE BURDEN OF BEING THE ONE WHO CARRIES OUT THE WILL OF YOUR LORD. UNTO THE PRIMORDIAL DARKNESS HELD WITHIN ME, IT IS YOU WHO CARRIES THE WEIGHT OF HUMANITY’S MAGIC. I CANNOT HELP YOU.”

_solomon’s expression shuddered under the pressure of the authority speaking before him, fear drawing into it._

"THIS GUIDANCE IS ALL YOU WILL RECEIVE FROM THE LOWER WORLD."

"you... cannot aid me," _solomon spoke softly, eyes averting from the one who spoke in nothing but blinding truths._

"THE FUTURE OF WHICH YOU STAND INNOCENT, THE TRUE SELF OF WHICH YOU CANNOT SHOW TO YOUR PEOPLE... I SEE THOU PLAIN, BEFORE ME NOW."

_"...so you knew, all the way back then. how far do your eyes reach, gilgamesh?" he asked softly, reaching a hand to slip over the one delicately placed against his waist. "his eyes only reached to before the whole incineration began... yet you seem...?" a breath ghosted along his neck, eerily cold, sending chills up his spine.  
_

_"my younger, living selves have a... habit, of concealing their clairvoyance. our's is one of infinite possibilities, of so many paths that it is impossible for one to deduce quickly which one... fate will take. i have seen many things, magus; you could even say i have seen all things. but i have no way of truly knowing which ones will truly happen until they do. time and fate and destiny, so many times humanity has changed it, and so many times has humanity avoided it. the authority of the ones within me... i have already told you. i have a finger... in every element of this world, and of any worlds that are birthed from the authorities within me."_

_"...and?" he prodded, turning his head a little to nudge his nose at the golden hairs of fringe along the other's forehead._

_"it is not difficult to know... that all king solomon wished for was to live as a normal human, and not as that of a king. but my lingering pride as one who was once a king... he is too similar to your own king, magus. a tool of country, of kingdom, of their god, with no agency of his own-- in that sense, he is even worse. they are recorded in history as perfect kings. as perfect wisdom. yet they are anything but."_

_"mm. they are a little similar, i guess... yet... even i know that my king made the choice to take up the blade. on the other hand, he..."_

_he shivered a little, feeling the other kiss his neck softly._

_"...the only choice he ever truly made of his own will, was asking for wisdom, and seeking those demons," the lancer finished for him. "i know well the stories of king solomon. i have existed this long after all... and much like you, i have watched chaldea closely."_

_solomon's voice cut through the lancer's, speaking more clearly in the memory, speaking more afraid, speaking more human-like._

"then i trust... that you will be there to watch the end, then, right?"

eyes narrowed.

"SOLOMON, KING OF MAGECRAFT..."

_finally, the other thousand voices faded, and the judge's posture shifted to the one of a tired man, rather than one who saw the abyss. the blazing blue of magical circuits faded back to the dark wine-violet, the origin leaking from his eyes returning to the crimson merlin was far more familiar with._ _gilgamesh slammed his scythe into the ground, sending a great gust of wind throughout the pillars, his own cape flapping out behind him. solomon’s spirit was affected, too, his hair and robes waving as the gust settled._

"...simple man, who stands before me now," _the thousands of voices speaking as one had silenced, and now there was only his. gilgamesh, the former king of uruk. a tone of gentleness and darkness, of reverence and, of understanding._ "i will watch you till your very end, and though i... am not the authority of which your soul will come to, i will see to it... that your death... is remembered."

_solomon was shaking, black tattoos practically pouring forth the aura of restrained mana. how easy it would have been, to call a demon here to protect himself. merlin chuckled. it was not often he found nourishment in something other than dreams, but it was welcomed._

_"...tasty. very sweet. his fear," he murmured softly. "it may be completely fabricated, but your way of showing a vision... you spoil me, nightfallen one. since when did you have the ability to feed an incubus in a way other than dreams? you're much more polite than i would have ever imagined, finally getting to speak and interact with you when you are... stable."_

_a huff._

_"...pay attention."_

_he pouted, but did as asked.  
_

_the king of mages shuddered out a wavering breath as the judge of irkalla neared him, speaking still._

"o, great king of jerusalem... who fears his own title. one day, your soul will be judged. that day... is not now."

"...gilgamesh, former king, as once i gave you guidance, for that of which... your living self sought, that i told you, your name will live on in grand tales, and in that way, you will... not die..." _his voice stuttered a little, sounding much more like the physician merlin was now familiar with._ “i-i... thank you, for speaking, with-- with me. may we... i..."

_the judge suddenly grabbed the king by his robes, and pulled him into a swift hug. solomon startled at that, before he sank into it, burying his face into the wisping furs of that strange, otherworldly cloak. shaking._

“coward that you are,” _was the quiet murmur._ “you will face many adversaries that your sight cannot now reach. i am sorry, king of jerusalem, that i cannot guide you yet-- but know that in those hardships, you will not be alone. i cannot tell you more.”

“...i-i… understand,” _and the judge stroked the king’s hair quietly, with a deadened, crimson gaze. a quiet sigh, as the spiritual form shook. the judge trailed back, eyes thin as he stared silently at the other._

“you are not ready... to face everything alone, but you will have to.”

_solomon, having caught his breath, took a step away from the other, head bowed in solitude._

"...the will of my lord is the one i will follow."

_the judge's scythe stood still within the underworld, and he watched, ever silent, as the one to be known as a physician rather than a king, vanished in the divine, holy light he once held so dear._

_“i see i am not the only one to have comforted him,”_ _merlin sounded, noticing now how he was not shaking anymore either. he gave a slow breath, faint, flowery light shimmering around him._

 _“mm,”_ _the lancer sounded, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders._ _“i believe that is... enough that i have showed you. so, yes, both of us... have spoken to the mage-king," he continued, "but he visited me much more rarely than you did._

 _“i think,”_ _he laid his head on the other’s shoulder again, breathing out a slow, shaky sigh._ _“ahh, you really do see too much, judge of the land with no return.”_

_“maybe so."_

_quietly, he turned around in the lancer's arms, rested his forearms against the other's chest, tilted his head up.  
_

_“very well, my king,--" pause. "my judge.”_


	4. a dream.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the skies of an old civilization long past. merlin finds them familiar, but more foreign was the warmth of something that was already dead.

when merlin blinked open his eyes slowly, upon the lancer letting him out of their vision, he found, that yes, he was still in the other candidate caster’s hold, and he sighed a little. 

king gilgamesh, the wise king of uruk, was sound asleep-- presumably assuming merlin and his elder version had also fallen swiftly. 

the cambion chuckled softly, messing with the fringe of the other’s hair, before he lifted his head to turn his gaze to the ascended one.

“...so, are you gonna talk with the doctor, then?” tilted his head, continuing to gently run his fingers through golden hair.

the lancer’s gaze was emotionless, back against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed and somewhat sinking a little into the various pillows the caster had set up because of his absolute refusal to sleep on, what he quoted, “the chaldeans call ‘a place to rest’.”

“soon. the final singularity approaches. most often, i’d have expected it to come sooner…”

those crimson eyes flashed electric blue, and merlin felt himself shiver, felt himself tense at that mere change in color. 

the magus felt color drain from his face as he watched every single flower on the walls of the room he stayed in vanish into dust, ash swirling as the walls turned into black stone, flickers of blue flame dancing and filling his vision, the near-silent wail of the dead echoing deafeningly in his ears. the flash of gold that adorned the mesopotamian gods, the gold of fading spirit origins, the gold of the treasury held by the ancient king no longer. sparks danced, and dizziness blackened his vision, yet--

before suddenly, the petals reappeared with the sound and flare of shattering glass. he blinked a couple times, just to make sure he was in reality and not another one of the lancer’s visions.

“...it seems that my presence... causes an irregularity, within humanity’s fate...”

merlin breathed slowly, reminding himself that the one of nightfall was more than the king gilgamesh he had familiarized himself with. he sat up a little, watching as the caster in his arms sounded softly, wrapped arms around his waist and held him unconsciously.

still cute.

“the physician does not want to be reminded,” lancer spoke with a dull tone, eyes closed, to merlin’s relief. “of the status he once held. he fears it so.” 

“...mm, i know. that inventor is the only living one he’s told himself in that form he’s got now, to my knowledge,” he mused back, hand drifting quietly over the golden hair in his lap. “which makes sense, because he does, technically, have at least a little bit of responsibility for this whole mess.”

“...he also has the means… of which to guide it back onto its course,” the lancer murmured, looking at his nails, eyes opening again, before making contact with merlin’s gaze.

from that gaze alone the magus felt a shiver run up his spine, but he smiled and chuckled.

“so, you _are_ going to talk to him.”

“soon... i said soon.” the other repeated with a slow exhale, stretching his arms up and-- oh god he was definitely less lanky than the other two. merlin felt his throat tighten for a moment before coughing and turning his attention back to the one in his arms, hearing the lancer crack his neck and straighten his back, before crossing his arms and gazing into nothingness again.

“...do you sleep, my king?” merlin changed subjects again, wanting to drift past the discussion of the current grand caster and his relationship with the grand lancer.

the other raised a brow, but thankfully did not call him out for the subject change.

“judge,” the other corrected, before sighing and continuing. “...my true form does not,” he murmured. “while the body is comatose, it is ‘awake.’ ...this ‘servant’ form… can ‘rest.’”

merlin ignored the correction, just quirking the side of his mouth upwards.

“so, can you still dream, then?”

a slow, rolling chuckle, and the other relaxed against the bed they lay on, sinking as a smile bloomed on his expression. ah, yes. completely gilgamesh, in that one. merlin found himself grinning back.

“perhaps i can,” was the teased response. “why, does the mage of flowers seek to be with me in a realm where he has power over me?”

an airy laugh in response, a lidded gaze as he showed the fangs of his incubus side to the other.

“maybe i do,” he responded, though it faded when he saw the shimmer of gold in the other’s eyes.

he sighed in defeat, laying back down next to the sleeping caster, shifting carefully as to not wake the other. “though i sure don’t know how much power dreams have over an amalgamation such as you, my king. besides, that memory you showed me was still a vision, not a dream. you’ve entered my dreams before, but i have never been able to see your own, in that form.”

“merlin,” the other said his name again, in that deep voice, and instantly he perked up due to the lingering pull the lancer had. “it has been a few centuries,” the other continued on. an understatement, and the magus almost snorted, “since i have... truly slept.”

he held his breath.

“magus of flowers… i give you a chance to... show that meadow to me, again. permission, to walk in my dreams.”

slowly, the lancer sunk down, laying his body across the bed sheets again, resting his head a little over his caster self’s so he could meet the cambion’s gaze. merlin took a breath at the eye contact, relaxing from his reaction, slowly gathering up his magecraft.

“you grant my wise and living self so much rest,” a tilt of his head, long golden hair spilling backwards down the other’s shoulders, red, narrowed eyes that blinked almost innocently in a way, black crown shimmering from the somewhat dimmed lights of the room. “will you… show me, what rest is, again…?”

how weary, merlin thought to himself, must this one be to have actually asked for rest.

“you know, thinking about it, i thought servants could not dream...”  
  
the other huffed softly, eyes narrowing at him, a thin curve to his lips.

“you and i both know we are not true servants. i am offering this chance to you, mage.”

he smiled, whispered a “ _come with me, then,_ ” and the other closed his eyes patiently.

_

_a vast meadow, filled with many flowers, glowing with pink. however, it seemed the other’s presence alone was enough to change the aspect of the dream merlin had crafted-- the sky was filled with many stars, a soaring shine of blues and violets and pinks and oranges, lacking the band of light within the singularities. it was usually dawn or dusk in merlin’s. this was a change._

_the mesopotamian night sky._

_in the mage’s dreams, the lancer always appeared different. lacking the tattoos of altered origin, completely without any markings. no red of archer, no violet of caster. it seemed in the other’s own dreams, it was the same._

_all he wore was dark robes, and a ragged, torn cloak. no shoes, no golden adornments, save the shimmering black crown of the dead’s lands. in the dream, too, his hair was around the same length of the true body merlin observed within the memory the other had shown him, almost touching the floor, flowing slowly in the warm night breeze, a stark contrast against the clothing he wore._

_he approached the other, discarding his cloak to the winds; it danced before dissolving into glowing pink petals. he stepped out of his shoes, too, letting his feet feel the vast sea of blossoms they now were standing on._

_gilgamesh slipped his hands around the mage’s waist, pressing his forehead to his._

_intimacy, the magus was reminded again. touch, in a dream. how foreign._

_“i hear nothing… but the breeze and the petals shifting…” the judge’s voice was soft, just a simple man’s, and better yet, merlin sensed nothing and could hear nothing beneath it; or at least, at the moment he could not._

_“it is... quiet, merlin… so quiet…”_

_“i hold dominion here,” the mage chuckled, slipping his arms around the other’s shoulders, running his hands through that blonde hair, golden luminescent stardust flowing off of it._

_“i do not hear them, here… only you, and me. is this how dreams are…?” the glittering skies above them swirled with more warm colors, the stars dancing high above their heads and yet close enough to reach._

_he didn’t ask who “they” were._

_“something like that.”_

_“i had forgotten... how the dreams of the living are,” and merlin gave a soft laugh at that, pressing his body closer to the other._

_“so many times you’ve spoken to me in mine, and yet never your own, your majesty.” now, the other did not protest at the title._

_he saw the other’s cheeks dust with a gentle, rose-colored gleam, yet still. so rare to see that._

_“to be lost in your own mind, to dream a dream a dream~” and merlin’s hands laced behind the other’s neck as he leaned back. “are you fond of it, king gilgamesh?”_

_“mm,” the other sounded back with confirmation, voice drifting on the warm winds, echoing almost silently. “you are warmer… than the underworld.”_

_he smirked at that, as stardust danced around the other’s crown, swirling dizzying patterns. the magus felt a quiet calm resounding throughout the dream he was walking in._

_merlin’s hands trailed silently to the thin silk tying together the cloak the other was wearing. the other did not protest as he untied it and threw the ribbon to the winds, nor as he pushed back the cloak, nor as he opened the black robes on his chest. his hands splayed the fabric open._

_“...i… really can’t deny having attachments around you, can i...?” merlin asked, looking back up at the other._

_“no,” the other whispered back softly with a childlike hum._

_“hm. you’re frustrating, my king. but at least a little less so, considering i can even say that to you without being hit immediately.”_

_the hit that he got was a gentle kiss to his hair, fingers tapping lightly on his waist again._

_“mmhm.”_

_“...you are an irregularity,” merlin whispered softly, “my king.”_

_silently, those hands on his waist trembled lightly, and merlin tilted his head up to let the other rest his own in the crook of the magus’ neck._

_“...i am. even now, i do not know... if you are fond of me because, of the pull and sway of the divine within me, or… because of the man, that i once was… because i have a story, that you are fond of.”_

_he trailed his hands through that long, golden hair, distantly reminded of another fictional princess locked away in a tower._

_“...” he didn’t know how to respond to that._

_“i do not mind... if that is the reason why you stay.”_

_carefully, merlin tugged gently at the fabric the other wore, and before long they rested on the waving night-time meadow, gentle blooms flowing in the wind. he draped himself over the other, felt arms wrap around his waist again._

_the other was right, he knew. there were so many aspects of the other that naturally brought focus to him... silk-like hair that never frayed, smooth skin that never changed. even still, there were aspects of his physical features that betrayed the passage of time; his skin tone was, ever so slightly, less vibrant than that of the living gilgamesh. a difficult thing to notice, unless you happened to stare at them a whole lot. and merlin most certainly did that, perhaps a bit too much.  
_

_“...your majesty,” he braced his arms around the other’s head, gazing down into pools of red, that seemed so much more vibrant in this dream, that seemed to pulse softly with light. “i think you’re more similar to the king of mages than you think--”_

_“i know,” the other cut him off, turning his head and grimacing a little. “i know, that we are similar.”_

_the sky above them was washed with a shade of black, dulling that brilliant array of colors, and merlin felt the other’s pain flow through the dream as a few flowers around them stained with gray. at the very least, the lancer wasn’t trying to hide it from the magus. gently, he touched the other’s cheek, rubbing his thumb down it slowly with a small smile._

_“centuries… much more, have passed since my reign as a living king…” gilgamesh looked back up at him, with a lidded, weary gaze. he tilted his head into the touch, exhaling mist. “...how long ago that all was… when i once rejected the gods… the heavens find themselves within me, now… or the ‘me’ that remains.”_

_merlin hummed softly, continuing to gently stroke the other’s cheek, bracing himself up off the other._

_“you acknowledge that the ones in chaldea are, in fact, your past selves, so of course you’re still gilgamesh.”_

_“...in name alone. you continue to call me king, magus, but i am not a king,” a breath, “only a judge, that guides those who find him.”_

_the mage sighed softly, glancing around them at the dream again, noticing how many more flowers had wilted, how the sky was much darker and duller now, how the stars had begun to vanish under that vast darkness one by one. time to change that._

_“guide me, then,” was all he murmured to the ex-king, before he placed his lips to the other’s._

_he was a little surprised to find the other returning it so soon, but he relaxed as he felt life surge back into the dream._

_just kissing. the breeze grew colder, merlin noticed, but the flowers remained warmer. the dull tones in the sky swirled back into brilliant, vibrant tones, stars twinkling, tiny white spots above them, dancing across for what seemed like eternity._

_the other’s hands held his waist carefully, sounding softly as he bit the bottom lip gently, asking for entrance. gilgamesh opened up soon enough, and let him explore freely, tasting the other with his own tongue. he threaded his fingers through the other’s hair, brushing back at the thin threads of gold, shimmering in the moonlight._

_he felt the other’s chest heave a bit against his own, and he pulled away with a purr._

_“mmm... ah, yes. you do taste rather different from your other selves,” merlin whispered, sitting up and straddling the other properly, rubbing the judge’s shoulders gently._

_slow, quiet breathing. he watched as the other relaxed a little, watched the exhale of wispy mist leave the other’s mouth._

_“i fear your answer, if i ask what i taste like,” was the chuckled response. “well, magus…?”_

_he trailed his hand down the judge’s chest, tilting his head and giving a sly smile in response._

_“good,” merlin mused in response, “you taste good, your majesty. they do, too, of course. but you have a different… splash, i suppose. older, even more refined than the one i share a room with. a bit sweeter… my, you really are like wine.”_

_fingers danced along his waist and he received a small smile. a gentle flow of calm rushed back into the dream, warming the air around them, watched again as the other tilted his head back and gazed at him with crimson-colored eyes-- no hint of any other foreign color._

_  
__  
__“how flattering you are, mage of flowers, even if it may be insincere.”_

_he leaned back down to press his forehead to the other’s, his white-lavender hair spilling over them like a curtain made of silk, shielding the judge from the light of the moon. a raised brow as red bored back into his own violet._

_“you think that i, merlin, grand mage of flowers, am insincere?” he teased, tilting his head slightly, trailing a hand up the skin of the other’s arm, breathing softly into the other’s face._ _  
__  
__“but of course,” the king murmured back. light-toned, airy and relaxed. “the world’s greatest scoundrel. dancing with three kings at once, are you? i know how often you reject your slivers of humanity, and yet here you are.”_

_“hmm... can i help the fact that you’re all so wondrously tasty?” he answered that question again with his own, leaning back in._

_the other met him with an ardent will. lips, against lips. caressing the walls of the other’s mouth, tasting again in this swirling dream, tilting his head to taste deeper. he heard the other groan softly as they continued, as merlin brushed a hand down the other’s arm, finding fingers delicately grasping his waist. he peeled the hand away into his, sounded quietly as the king intertwined them on pure instinct._

_he pulled away once more with a shudder, panting softly into the judge’s nape._ _  
__  
__handholding. a thumb, gently stroking his own. he raised, then gazed downward, a grin on his face. gilgamesh continued to stare up at him, a slight tilt upwards of his mouth._

_“honestly, are we in my dreams, or your’s…?” he questioned, squeezing the king’s hand gently, chuckling softly._

_“toil not over needless trivialities, halfblood,” exhaled into the air around him, the only thing he could hear other than the breeze, the ruffling flowers. the judge quietly continued to let his hand trace circles on merlin’s waist._

_he brought his other hand up from the other’s chest, cupping a soft cheek gently and stroking it with his thumb._

_quiet. just for a moment. the other parted his mouth open to say something, but said nothing, and resolved for silence._

_...there was a rhythm, he could barely hear. a steady, unbroken rhythm that he recognized easily, but he should not have. the other was, essentially, a corpse, but in this dream...  
_

_“...i can hear your breathing, and your heartbeat, for once,” the magus murmured. “...well, here, anyways.”_

_soft, gentle sounds, here. the sounds of one who was living; sounds that he knew weren’t real, only falsified in this scape. the other spoke out his thoughts for him._

_“...ah, that’s right. outside of dreams, all my movements are silenced. something like presence concealment, i suppose.”_

_it was still very silent in the dream. but it was calm, and the winds were sweet and slow._

_“...and i… have no heartbeat, nor need for breath, in the waking world. i could fabricate such things if you wish to hear them from me, magus. you are used to those things that are human, are you not?”_

_merlin quirked a thin smile, huffing softly._

_“...hahaha. you’re troublesome, your majesty.” briefly, he squeezed the other’s hand again, feeling warmth pulse through him. dreams like this, completely controlled by those that dwelled in them… they were peaceful and comfortingly vibrant._

_“i… we should wake, soon, though,” the judge breathed quietly, head turning to nuzzle merlin’s hair. “...even for a cambion cursed with immortality, i do not think sleeping with death is very wise.”_

_“mmm, that’s a shame,” merlin hummed at that, raising up slightly to squint at the other’s face. stardust flowed freely around the other’s crown, eyes splashed with that wine red color that illuminated pale skin. he trailed his fingers through the light, golden hair. a few shades less saturated and a few shades lighter, it seemed. just barely._

_“...i might have to sleep with you more often, then.”_

_gilgamesh stared up at him, eyes narrowing a little, and a thin smile more characteristic of the man he knew as “gilgamesh” appeared on the other’s hazy expression. a low chuckle, that reverberated through the dream with amusement, and he startled ever so slightly at the sudden rush at the taste of pure, undiluted honey mead on his tongue, blinking a bit in surprise._

_“...magus,” the other’s hands snaked down his back again, sensation of touch prickling up his spine, his attention drawing right back to the judge beneath him, with those hands going to rest on his waist. a finger trailed the edge of the black turtleneck he wore, and he smiled a little, despite knowing what words came next._

_“i ask that you… refrain from tempting me,” another breath. it seemed louder in the dream. the wind flowed stronger, a few strands of gold crossing the other’s nose, twinkling like jewelry in the vibrance. “i am being truthful about it being dangerous.”_

_“tempting is my favorite thing, i’m afraid-- and i like danger,” merlin purred, showing his fangs to the other and brushing the hair from the judge’s face, violet eyes twinkling with mischief._

_“no, you do not.”_

_he pouted._

_“...” gilgamesh turned his head to the side with the ghosting lilt of a frown, breaking eye contact and blinking slowly a few times. almost cat-like. merlin could practically see the twitch of a cat ear on the other’s head._

_“...one more kiss,” he proposed softly, chuckling lightly and letting his eyes fall shut. “please, my king? you said so yourself, that this is the first time you’ve dreamed, let alone rested, in this form--”_

_fingers laced behind his head, threading through his hair, and pulled him back downward. the taste of sweet mead rushed and poured back through him, intoxicating yet so pure it was gone before he even knew what hit him. he found himself sinking, and a brief flash of fear swallowed him up into this kiss-- he could sense it bordering the dream, the distant sound of violent storms and crashing waves, followed by the silence of the primordial sea the other was. still, this was his dominion, and he wasn’t complaining feeling the other’s tongue by his._

_gilgamesh pulled away with a breath, panting softly, eyes fluttering shut, brows arching ever so slightly. his expression, ever so slightly wavering with that human desire. it was interesting to see… the magus wondered if he fabricated that, too._

_he did not want to dwell on how much the other’s warmth was a carefully maintained facade. his own was almost the same. yet here... that soothing touch, that soulful heat, bleeding into his skin, even in a dream, was real enough. he'd known the other well when he was a wise king, he believed. that the king known as gilgamesh was a reserved man, who could have once been described to have no heart, then learned wisdom after loss. more god, than human. the magus should not have been worrying over whether or not he actually felt something around the other; both of them were beyond something as childish like that, right?  
_

_then why? did he actually love the other? he'd been telling himself for ages and ages past, that all the "emotions" he felt were nothing more than an act aided by the feelings he consumed as a demon, from those who were truly human._

_the other's expression slowly changed beneath him, another careful smile, almost looking unnatural on that face of his._

_could the other hear his thoughts? was the other's authority so powerful that even a half-incubus like himself could be forced, or made, perhaps, to feel emotion as purely as a normal human being?  
_

_did he feel..._

_gilgamesh's hands messed with his hair lightly, a twinkle in his crimson gaze. a gentle breath on soft-growing-softer lips, and that golden fringe in slight disarray, every out-of-place hair only adding to that beauty of his... as the magus was seated over the other's form, allowing him to gaze at all that splendor with the simple tilt downward of his head..._

_guilty?_

_slowly the dream began to waver, spots of blurry black and white swirling around them, and merlin found that he'd have to find the answers to his questions later.  
_

_“how many times must i repeat it…?”_ _the other’s voice rolled deep in his ear as the scent of wine grew stronger, bringing him out of his own thoughts again, and he shuddered softly as the veil between sleeping and waking drew thinner, as the warmth flared into a searing light of heat as the judge's will commanded to bring them both out of this place. he felt a sensation in his limbs, and the other's eyes were sharp, trained on his own, a smile barely hinting at the truths the other knew._

_sometimes, merlin despised how brilliantly the desire swirling hot in his chest bloomed at the worst times._

_“i am not a king.”_

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is also a thought experiment as i figure out lancer gil's character. thank you again for reading!


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